Aboriginal Arts and Culture. History, biography.

Turnbull vies with John Kerr for drunken dummy-spit.

I was one of many Australians of the left, who really felt for Malcolm Turnbull when he was stabbed in the back by the repulsive thug Tony Abbot, and when he had the shit kicked out of him by Beetroot Barnaby as he lay bleeding. The Neanderthals in his party just couldn’t tolerate a leader who actually had some principles, so on behalf of the fossil fuel lobby the assassins brought out their daggers and bovva boots, and installed the most repugnant tool ever to sully the Australian Parliament. Eventually, owing to the self devouring antics of the Labor Party, this embarrassing imbecile was elected Prime Minister.

In no time, the Australian people realized what a cretin they had elected, and the man we had felt for, and feared we might lose those years before, had his sweet revenge. No-one felt sorry for the victim this time. It was more like the Atticus Finch moment, when he shoots the ravenous dog frothing at the mouth as he staggers down the road threatening all and sundry. Our lovable Malcolm of course, was a much nicer assassin. His money and charm had already ‘nicely’ done for Peter King, the sitting member for Wentworth when Turnbull decided he wanted that seat, (after all, his big house is there), and Brendon Nelson barely felt a thing when Malcolm glided up behind him and slit his throat with a thin blade.

But even though it meant almost certain defeat for the Labor Party, the whole country, (except for Eric Abetz, Andrew Bolt, and The Australian) was able to breathe in some fresh air after the great stench was removed. The Labor Party went from being ten points in front, to ten behind overnight, but at least we had a decent man in the Liberal Party for a change. The country waited for the sweep of change our hero would bestow on the country, but something happened. Nothing. And then nothing happened again. And nothing with a nice smile kept happening, until finally our hero thought he had better do something.

Suddenly he had an idea! He would manipulate the stupid Greens into changing the voting rules in the Senate, (those rat-bags on the cross benches had the temerity to stand up for the poor!) kick the trade unions with draconian legislation, dissolve both Houses of Parliament, and with nothing but a smarmy smile, a three word slogan, and his manifest destiny, consolidate his birthright. But what about all those nasty policies the stench brought in? Well, our hero had actually made a Faustian pact. Refugees could still rot in the gulags. Cuts to health, education, legal aid, women’s shelters, renewable energy, climate change, (the principle he lost the leadership to all those years ago) and everything else the stench brought in, was still there.

Meanwhile, the Labor Party under Bill Shorten was doing what parties are supposed to do. Actually develop policy, put those policies forward, argue for them, and don’t assume the voters are stupid. A lot of people wrote Bill off, but I didn’t. He argued his case intelligently for eight weeks, and at the end, hit those sanctimonious pricks where they were most vulnerable. They had always hated Medicare. They tried to bring in co-payments, they froze Government support to force GPs to end bulk billing, they stopped support for pathology tests, then they boo-hooed when they were called out on it. So the party who ran a whole election in the past on an interest rate scare, another on a refugee scare, and another on the invasion of Iraq are crying foul. This brings us to the latest election ‘result’.

As much as Malcolm Turnbull knifed his opponents in the party with a degree of ‘niceness’ he was as ruthless as any other politician, particularly when he forced Peter King from Wentworth. And as much as Malcolm Turnbull has a nice smile, he has shown that he is willing to jettison all of his principles for the sake of holding the top job. And as much as Malcolm Turnbull fought against the monarchy all those years ago, he has emulated the most reprehensible representative of the monarchy, Sir John Kerr, and his red-faced drunken rant at the Melbourne Cup all those years ago, with his ill-tempered whinge on election night.

Good-bye Malcolm. You broke Australia’s heart. Welcome Bill. You showed how to run a decent campaign, and you didn’t treat us like idiots.